Epilogue
Wesley lay cuddled up against Nate’s side, drawing circles around his navel and watching his lower abdominals flutter beneath his touch. A happiness Wesley didn’t know he could have, that he could feel, spread through him like fog on a spring morning.
Streams of light slanted into the bedroom from the tall windows facing the bed, stopping just short of the footboard. The mottled brick gave the whole place a warmth that Wesley now realized had always been missing from Nate’s living spaces.
He shifted and winced as his kidney pulled. Even after two months, some injuries still lingered. The surface-level bruises were gone, but his ribs remained tender and the deep ache in his kidney flared whenever he moved wrong.
It’d been a month since he and Nate had moved into a loft in the Old Market. Not the same one they’d toured that first sweltering summer afternoon, but one a realtor friend had found in the final stages of renovation, which let Nate make some design choices such as the large sun-washed windows.
Hockey season had started in the meantime, and the Bennetts attended opening night at Nate’s insistence. His quiet string-pulling landed them seats on the glass. A picture of Nate with Darius and Zariah sat on the credenza in the living room.
While they’d waited for the loft to be completed, Wesley moved into the condo with Nate and put out feelers. Next week, he’d speak with the director of a charter school, and a local youth center wanted him to run a literacy program starting in January.
They’d both also started counseling. Nate was working through the trauma of his childhood, and Wesley needed to process the ordeal of two brutal attacks.
The jangle of his cell phone made him jump, and Nate chuckled.
“Shut up,” he said, rolling over and over and over across the great expanse of the barge that Nate called a bed. Oh, who was he kidding? Wesley loved this freakin’ bed.
He glanced back at Nate. “It’s Agent Simmons.” He swiped a finger across the screen and scooted back against the headboard. “Hello?”
“Wesley Byerly?”
“Yes?”
“Mr. Byerly, this is Agent Simmons with the FBI.”
Wesley rolled his eyes. “I know who you are, Agent Simmons; we’ve been in contact for the last two months. How can I help you?” Wesley punched the speakerphone button.
“I have news.”
He shared a look with Nate. “Okay. Nate’s here with me, and I have you on speakerphone.”
“Stavros and D’Amato are both in custody with no option for bond. Stavros has been charged with extortion and computer fraud—he’s the one who accessed your personal data. D’Amato’s been charged with assault and battery for the attacks on Wesley.”
Wesley leaned into Nate, who’d scooted up beside him and looped an arm around him. A huge sigh of relief filled the air between them. “Computer fraud?”
“Hacking. That’s how they got your cell phone number and address in the first place as well as Mr. Hennessey’s data.”
“When’s the trial?” Nate asked.
“No date’s been set yet. Unfortunately, the wheels of justice move slower than we like, but because of who the targets of extortion were, probably in the next six months.”
Wesley and Nate hadn’t been told who’d been targeted.
Wesley was curious, sure, but seeing as Nate had a very real chance of being outed, he respected their privacy.
It was none of his business. If the extortion information revealed any wrongdoing, surely those individuals would eventually be brought to justice.
Wesley would keep an ear on the local news.
“Will the trial be public?” Nate asked.
“That’s highly likely, yes. I’m sorry. The defendants were under the thumb of some fringe group and not linked to any organized crime rings or families.
Unfortunately, Mr. Hennessey, your sexuality isn’t reason enough to close the proceedings.
We’ll discuss the issue with the prosecutor once one is assigned and ask for some cooperation in keeping your identity out of the public transcripts and proceedings. ”
“I appreciate whatever you can do, Agent Simmons.”
“Of course, Mr. Hennessey. We’ll let you know when the trial’s been set. Have a good day, gentlemen.”
“Thanks.” Wesley dropped his phone to the bedside table with a thud, and rolled to his side, facing away from Nate. If it weren’t for him, Nate wouldn’t be in this position.
“Hey, none of that,” Nate said right before he tugged Wesley over by a leg.
Wesley yelped. “If I hadn’t climbed into your car that night, none of this would be happening to you.”
Nate hovered on hands and knees over him, hands bracketing shoulders and neck, knees pressing against Wesley’s hips. “We’ve been over this. Too many times. If I hadn’t left my car unlocked. If I hadn’t even been there. Yada, yada, yada...who knows what would have happened to you.
“Instead, we met and we’re here. My team doesn’t care that I’m gay or that I’m living with another man. Business as usual. And I...” He shook his head again, that unstoppable smile tugging at his mouth—so open and bright it made Wesley’s chest ache.
The level of nonchalance they’d shown over the whole thing had surprised them both and made the decision to embark on a relationship a no-brainer.
“Finders keepers, remember? You’re mine now.”
Nate kissed him slow, deep, and certain—like there was nowhere else he’d rather be. And Wesley kissed him back because this was exactly where he belonged.